Page 23 - Unlikely Stories 5

In the Back Streets of London

frown, he added hastily, “And with you, James Boswell, Ninth Laird
of Auchinleck.”
I had not known my hereditary Scottish title to be conferred.
“I must correct you, Sir,” I rejoined. “My father yet lives. Or so I
believe.”
“Ah, yes. Forgive me, if you will. I am too previous. Well, then, to
your future accession.” We drank. The man had chosen an excellent
wine, one not customarily served in a back-alley tavern.
Johnson must have observed my pleasure and preening at being
thus honored, and said, in perhaps a more censorious tone than was
necessary, “Wine makes a man more pleased with himself; I do not
say it makes him more pleasing to others.” I objected that vanity had
not been paramount in my behavior, but rather an acknowledgement
of our host’s respect for my origins and an expression of my
continued hope for the longevity of my sire. He shook his head. “It is
scarcely credible to what degree discernment may be dazzled by the
mist of pride, and wisdom infatuated by the intoxication of flattery.”
It then began to dawn on me that his words were directed as much
toward the man on the opposite side of the table as to me. A quite
agreeable intoxication had begun to seize hold of my senses and
reason, yet I shook it off and glanced keenly at Johnson. Perhaps the
two of them had old acquaintance, and not one imbued with that
spirit of bonhomie we commonly expect of well-met former
associates.
“What, then,” said our interlocutor, “should one do if praise is
deserved? Would that not inevitably contribute to a man’s vanity?”
Johnson would not concur. “The greatest human virtue bears no
proportion to human vanity. To praise us for actions or dispositions
which deserve praise is not to confer a benefit, but to pay a tribute.”
“I should think, Sir, that you of all men must be keenly aware of
the woeful disparity between praiseworthy accomplishment and, to
use your word, the resultant tribute. You are a giant in literature,
Doctor, and yet your recompense in worldly goods has been glaringly
insufficient and, in comparison to those bestowed upon the lesser
lights of your profession, insulting. Do you not then treasure the
acclaim you receive?”

22